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2015.08.21 - Who Says Friends Are Hard To Make?
Sly is silhouetted against the setting sun as he walks along the top seat of the lacrosse field bleachers, arms held out idly to his sides as he goes. He's not sure what drew him here, but it seemed like an interesting enough place... and so he decided to explore. Now he's realized there isn't much to it, and he's just sort of passing the time, amusing himself as he can. A man leans against a fence, staring out across the fields of the school somewhat dazedly. He's dressed something a little over casual, but nothing expensive enough to look out of place. Gaze wandering over the school property, he notices the strange sight -- someone walking along the top row of bleachers. He waves and calls out, atempting to gain the other's attention. "Are you sure that's safe?" Sly pauses, turning to look over at the other guy. His eyes dart about, taking in the other's location and appearance. Then he shrugs. "No. But what's really safe, anyway?" As if to make his point, he hops up onto the short chain-link back of the bleachers, swings his leg over them, and climbs down as far as he can on the other side. When he reaches the drop, he hangs on with his hands, extends his body... and drops the last few feet, landing lightly in a crouch. As he straightens up, he brushes his hands together, smirking, and says, "Hey. I'm not dead." Ian Heryld laughs and nods slightly. "Good point. What is safe?" he straightens from his position against the fence. "Name's Ian. Funny, thought I was the only one around here," he says, indicating the back of the school. "I'm Sly," the other says. Shrugging, he adds, "I wander around." He leans up against the bleachers, shoving his hands into his pockets, and eyes Ian critically. "So why isn't anyone else here? It looks like this place was built for lots of people." Ian Heryld nods. "yeah, it does. Probably they're mostly around during the day? It is a school, I'm fairly certain." He looks around, as if reaffirming the statement. "I moved here several days ago, myself. Don't really no much." "A school," Sly echoes, looking around the place, sounding like he's not really very familiar with school. Maybe he's some street kid who doesn't attend classes. He doesn't look too ragged, though. "I've only been in town for a couple of days, too," he admits. Ian Heryld nods. "Wouldn't know where one could go get a bite to eat around here, then?" He pauses for a moment. "I've been meaning to look around anyways, but if you would happen to know I guess it would make things easier. I'm hungry, and I'll get you something too, if you want." He seems to pick up more on Sly's expression, more than his tone of voice. "Where'd you move from, if you don't mind the question?" "Oh, yeah" Sly says, nodding. "There's places around. If you have money." He looks Ian up and down again. "You got money?" As to the question about moving, he shrugs. "I dunno. Not really anywhere. I'm not sure I really live here, anyway. I just kind of ended up here." Which isn't completely vague or anything. Ian Heryld shrugs a little, putting his hands in his pockets. "Got a bit of money, sure." He seems unphased by the ambiguity and in fact almost amused by it. "Yeah, I get what you mean, I don't think I can truthfully say I live here, either." "Well," Sly says, "What kinda food you want?" So far, he's partial to the tacos from this one place, but then, he's not tried much of the local fare yet. At the admission of not feeling at home here, he gives a nod. Yeah, that makes sense. "Not sure, what do you like?" Ian asks. "I don't think I could aford anything aproaching a five star restaurant, but I've got enough for pizza, or something." "Pizza," Sly echoes. Then he shrugs. "I can eat anything. If you want pizza, let's get pizza." He seems fairly noncommital about it, but then, maybe he's hungry enough that he really just doesn't care. Ian Heryld shrugs. "What do you like to eat?" He pulls his left hand from his pants pocket, holding a thin wallet, from which he takes a ten and a five while talking. "You lead, just take us where the food is good." Ian puts his hands back in pockets, still holding the money. So, Sly leads the way. They walk quite a distance, crossing a number of streets and eventually coming to a bridge, where Sly hops up onto the railing and begins to walk along it, above the street below. "I know a place," he explains idly. Ian Heryld follows along and only blinks when Sly climbs on the bridge railing, walking beside him. "Do you like high places?" He asks. "I like... open places," Sly replies. "I like to be able to see around me, not feel... closed up." He gives a little shiver, then, not really knowing why. Ian Heryld smiles for a second. "Yeah... Yeah." He stops, as if considering how to phrase something "I like the night sky for that reason. The infinities between every star, and the fact that each individual star is bigger than our own planet. It makes me really happy to know that stuff can be limitless that way." "Huh," Sly says, pausing to look up at the sky. "I never really thought about it that way before. I just like the sky at night... because it feels so... endless." So they somewhat agree, anyway. After a moment, Sly resumes walking again, making his way across the bridge. Once they've crossed the bridge, Sly hops down and turns to begin walking toward the south. Ian Heryld follows along, looking around at the building and their gradual change from school to homes to downtown commercial in silence. "So... What kinds of things do you like to do? Reading? Music?" "I like music," Sly agrees. "Reading is... fine, too." He shrugs. Hopping over a low fence, he starts down an alleyway, moving toward the more industrial part of town. "What about you?" "Drawing. Reading, too, but drawing and writing." Ian says, walking around the fence and moving into the alley. "Making things in general interests me, I suppose." "That's cool," Sly says, nodding. "Making things is useful. Craftsmen are... y'know. Respectable and important to have." He falls silent again, looking thoughtful, and says, "I'm not good at stuff like that." He continues on the way south. Ian Heryld follows Sly out of the alleyway and into the larger crowd of warehouses. "Any particular kind of music you like? I'll listen to anything from orchestral to rock -- I don't like being picky." He drops a little behind, looking at some of the buildings in interest, but catches up after a while. "Um," Sky says uncertainly. "I don't think I've ever heard any music I didn't like?" He falls unto an uneasy silence, then, and abruptly turns a corner. After a few long strides, he goes up some steps and opens the door of a pizza place. "C'mon in," he suggests. x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-[ Beacon Hills - Pizzaria ]x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x x x x The lights are on, illuminating the area. x x x x This spacious, unfinished brick building is filled to the brim with the x x ambiance of a traditional American pizzeria--especially the smell. The x x front area of the store is given over to tables and seating, and the x x floor is done in diamond patterns of black and white tile. The furniture, x x like the bar, is old but sturdy, well-used oak. Each table features wire x x frame napkin dispensers, glass shakers of salt, black pepper, hot pepper x x flakes, and of course Parmesan cheese. x x x x A raised counter of heavy polished oak wraps around the left side of the x x room, containing the front counter and bar area, where everything from x x cold beers to soda fountain soft drinks can be ordered. A well-stocked x x salad bar runs along the far wall, just beside the swinging double doors x x that lead into the kitchen. Large prints of various menu items--featuring x x both New York and Chicago style pizzas--adorn the walls. x x x x An adjacent room on the right side of the restaurant contains an x x old-fashioned nickel arcade, where the games are years out of date but x x don't cost much to play, either. x x x x Use type to change the restaurant. x x x x Outside, it's clear, warm, and breezy. x x x x There are +view-able items here. x x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x Ian Heryld first looks around the room, then at the menu. "What do you like?" He asks Sly, still reading. Ian removes his left hand from his pocket, holding the money. "I like whatever," Sly says noncommittally. "Everything looks good to me." He finds a booth at the edge of the room and sits down, idly picking up the salt shaker to toy around with it. "Just get something you'll like. It'll be fine for me." Ian Heryld gets in line to order after a few seconds, left hand at his side and right still in his pocket. He waits patiently and orders quicly -- medium sized, with mushrooms. Box in hand, he walks towards the booth and sets the box down. "I need to find a job, eventually," he says, going for napkins and water. "You need a job?" Sly asks. He frowns thoughtfully. "I have a job. Maybe you could work there, too?" He looks at the pizza, sniffing at it, and nods his approval. "Good choice," he declares. Then, "I work at Pride Gym. The owner is Brock. You should go and ask him for a job." Ian Heryld nods thoughtfully, taking a slice from the box and pushing the latter towards Sly. "Thanks. And Tastes pretty great, too," he admits after swallowing. "Couldn't possibly eat it all on my own though, so come on and help me out?" The question is followed by another bite of the pizza. Sly is perfectly happy to snag a slice, biting into it and chewing thoughtfully. After he swallows, he nods. "Yes. This is very good," he declares, flashing a grin. He seems to relax a bit, as though now that he's eating he's not quite so much on guard. Ian Heryld smiles. "Glad you like it," he says. Ian seems to relax as well, looking out the window for a few seconds and just enjoying the food. A minute passes before he says anything, content to just eat. "So what's the job about?" "I just mostly clean stuff," Sly says with a shrug. "It's a gym. People go there to take exercise and such. If you know more about things like... cash registers... and stuff, then maybe he could give you a more important job than I have." "Work is work," Ian says, half-way through the pizza. He casts around for something to keep the thread of conversation going, but just finishes the pizza, washes it down with a drink from his water bottle and finally decides on a second slice. "Don't even know why I... moved here," he offers, a few bites into the slice, stumbling strangely on 'moved'. "It's just one of those things that sort of... happened. I used to have some really great friends back in Chicago, not entirely sure what happened to most of them,, though. We just kind of... lost touch, I guess." Ian seemed as if he was going to ask something, but stops at the last moment, unintentionally leaving the sentence hanging. Sly nods. "Well, yeah," he agrees. "As long as they give me money, I don't care what I'm doing very much." He readily takes a second slice, though at Ian's mention of moving, he gets a thoughtful look. "Same here," he says with a nod. "I don't know why I'm here, either. It just seems like... sometimes you just go where you go. You know?" He seems interested in the mention of Chicago, but he doesn't say anything about it. But maybe he looks just a big jealous. Either Ian notices the look and simply doesn't mention it, or he doesn't see it at all. Whatever the case, he doesn't react to or make anything of it. "I sometimes wonder, rather morbidly, what happened to them. But, um, I guess I don't really have friends like that anymore..." He looks around the restaurant before looking back towards Sly, seming almost nervous or uncomfortable, as if the coming question were hard or important. "Unless uh, you'd like to be my friend?" The fact that Sly might lie about the answer doesn't seem to even cross Ian's mind. Sly blinks in surprise at the question, and unlike many people, he actually seems to give this careful and serious consideration. Then, after a moment, he puts down his pizza, wipes his hand on a napkin, and extends it across to Ian, putting on a big smile. "Yes, Ian. I would like to be friends." The thought seems to make him quite happy, as if maybe has hasn't had too many friends before. Ian Heryld does likewise, putting the half eaten slice down and cleaning his hands with a napkin before taking Sly's hand with his own and shaking it, smiling. "I, Ian Heryld, think I'd be glad to call you a friend, Sly." The smile isn't big, but neither is it brief -- it appears and it stays. This done, Sly cheerfully resumes munching on his pizza. Once he's swallowed a couple of bites, he asks, "So, you gonna come try to get a job at the gym?" He smiles, a naturally lopsided and playful expression, and adds, "Now I can tell my boss that my friend needs a job." Ian Heryld nods while swallowing a bite of his own slice. "Certainly," he says. "Hopefully I can do fine on the interview. I mean, uh, I... really don't know how I got here. As in, I can't describe how I got to Beacon Hills beyond I wasn't here one moment, and then I was the next." He shrugs a little. "So what do you plan on doing? Do you think you'll be staying in Beacon Hills?" Ian finishes with another bite of pizza. Sly sits up a bit straighter at that. "Really? You too?" He flushes slightly, faltering, and then lowers his voice to speak very softly. "To tell the truth? I... don't really remember anything, not before... a couple of days ago. Before that... it's just really foggy. Like... I don't even have a past." Ian Heryld tries to raise an eyebrow, but doesn't quite manage the eyebrow dexterity. "That is pretty... strange. Not remembering anything but knowing that the sky is blue, or... english." He falls silent for a little while. "Sorry. Um, I know it might sound like a hollow promise or something, but if there's something I could do to help you out with that...? This kind of reminds me about the time I was reading the Harry Potter books, and how mad it made me that obliviate wasn't one of the unforgivable spells." "Who's... Harry Potter?" asks Sly, his brow knitting in confusion. "And a spell... like magic? It must be pretty bad if it's unforgivable. What's it do, like, rip apart someone's soul?" Yep, apparently his amnesia extends to popular fiction but not to speaking English. Go figure. Ian Heryld laughs a little and explains between bites of food. "Harry Potter is a series of books where magic is a thing. The unforgivable spells are just spells that are banned by the magical government. And obliviate makes you forget things, but it isn't one of them. I don't know, is there a library around here?" "I think so," Sly says, nodding. "But... isn't... isn't magic a thing, anyway?" He looks confused now, like he's trying to remember something but can't quite place it. He finishes off his slice of pizza, wipes his hands, then reaches up to rub at his forehead in frustration. Ian Heryld seems to hesitate for a moment, as if thinking, then nods. "Yeah... I think it is. But not a lot of people seem to believe in it, I guess. Makes me wonder why. gravity is supposed to be 'just a theory' anyway, right?" He finishes the slice and takes a long drink of water. "I wish I knew more about it, myself." "Gravity's a theory?" Sly echoes, looking confused. "But it's... gravity. It happens all the time. That's like saying the sun is a theory. It's the sun. It's right there!" He gestures, pointing toward the sky. Apparently, science isn't his thing. "Well... It happens, but there's no actual way to prove that it will always pull you down is the logic. Um, there's no way to prove that the next time you jump, or the time after that, gravity will still work, or at least, not a way the people who said that found. so gravity is a really good theory, but not everyone can tell the future or prove it until it actually happens, so it's a theory. And can't magic do that anyways? Arbitrarily defy gravity using magic, I mean?" Ian shrugs a little and looks somewhat worried. "Did... Did I explain that right? I think facts can only really be stated in the present or in the past, but not in the future, because I don't think you can know the entirety of the future, or if gravity will keep working all through it." He seems to be picking his words carefully, as if afraid of saying something wrong. Sly just stares at Ian for a moment, frowning. Then he gives a slow nod. "Okay... so they just mean... that it seems like we know it works a certain way... but it could change. I guess that makes sense, then." He slumps a bit in his seat, looking thoughtful. "I guess we can't ever know the future. And I don't know the past. Kind of... weird, huh?" Ian Heryld frowns slightly. "That sounds like it sucks," He says. "But, you remember the last five minutes, right? And I'm sure you could find history books somehow, and you have to have come from somewhere, so maybe there's... papers?" He seems a little lost in thought for a while, and a few seconds go by before he asks, "Do you... Have a last name? Or remember it? How common of a name could Sly be, unless it's not your actual first name? Maybe it's a nickname for something... Simon? Sylvester?" Ian pauses again. "Uh, if you don't want to answer anything or stop talking about something, just tell me, please?" Grimacing, Sly shakes his head. "I think Brock said he put 'Smith' down on whatever the paper was I signed to work for him, but... that's not my name. I don't know what my name is. I just know... I'm called Sly." He slides down farther in his seat, looking frustrated. "I don't mind you asking, but... Simon or Sylvester? They don't sound familiar. Nothing does. I just... don't know." Ian Heryld nods and looks out the window, lost in thought. "I wish you did, it's so frustrating not being able to help someone, especially a friend. But you have a personality, you know how to talk, so you haven't forgotten everything, and I think personality is shaped by what kind of environment you grew up in? At least I think I've heard that somewhere. My mother was an artist, and I would watch her draw things, and sometimes we'd paint together, so I guess that might be why I like pictures?" His hands drop to his lap, the right one going into the corresponding pocket -- it seems to be some kind of nervous tick -- as he looks back towards the table. "What do you know about magic, anyways?" Sly's brow furrows again, and he stares down at the plate before him. He tries and tries, reaching up to rub his temples, but eventually he gives up with a groan. "It's like... when I try to think about it, something else just pops up in my head!" He shoves himself back in the booth a bit, annoyed. "I know it's real. I think I've seen it a lot, maybe... but I don't know what or when or how or with who or.... anything." Ian Heryld nods. "Yeah, that's strange. Maybe someone tried to block your memories, or something? I don't even know if that's possible." He looks over towards the pizza box. "You still hungry?" "I should be," Sly says, but shakes his head. "I just don't feel like eating anymore. Normally I'm always hungry." He manages a weak smile. "But... hey. I may not know who I am, but at least I know I have a friend, now." And that's something. Ian Heryld reaches over and closes the box. "Yeah. Friends are the best kind of people. I don't have a number or anything I can give you right now, but since we'll probably be working in the same place, maybe I'll see you around?" Box in hand, Ian stands. "Best not waste the food, let me see if I can get something to evenly divide what's left, a couple of bags or something." Sly shakes his head. "No, you should keep it. Until you have the job, you'll need it." He hesitates a bit, then he asks, "Do you... know, um... how to find a place to stay? I... don't have a home, or anything." Ian Heryld shrugs slightly. "I've got a room in a hotel over in San Fransisco. I've been skimming off my savings to get through. Not great, but best I could do without a job. Um, I'd offer to let you come with me, but there's just one bed. Place doesn't even have a phone." His right hand drops back into his pocket. If there's anywhere you want or need to go though, say out of town, I can definitely help you out with that, though." "Oh," Sly says, frowning some. "Well, I don't want to make trouble. And I should probably stay here in town... but maybe I can get a hotel here in town? I know there's one... somewhere nearby. If you're going to be here, too, maybe you should get a closer room?" "Yeah, I was thinking about that," Ian says. "Farely certain today is the last day I had payed up anyway, so that sounds like an excelent idea." Already standing with pizza box in arm, he looks towards the door. "Want to go do that now, then?" Sly grins and hops to his feet. "Let's go! It's a few blocks north of here, I think. It has a big sign that lights up." Then, having explained, he heads for the door to lead the way! Ian Heryld follows Sly out of the shop, wadding up the dirty napkins and tossing them in a trash can on the way out. "What's the name of this place?" Sly says, "The Sunset," Sly explains, and steps outside. "It's just near Main Street." And he heads outside." Letting the door swing shut behind him, Ian steps outside into the clear and stormless night. He looks up towards the sky for half a second, then continues following Sly in silence, hands in his pockets again. Sly too walks in silence, apparently once again lost in thought. They move north, through various allyways, crossing a few major streets, until they find themselves on Main Street... Once they reach Main Street, Sly turns and heads a few blocks west, until eventually they reach the Sunset Hotel. "Well, this is it," he explains, and then steps inside. x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-[ Beacon Hills - Sunset Hotel ]x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x x x x The lights are on, illuminating the area. x x x x An outdated paint job covers the outside of the Sunset, probably the x x best-known lodging on the stretch of businesses known as "the Strip." It x x may not be the most glamorous of places, but it's in good repair, x x affordable, and even more importantly, it's clean. A beaten-down low-pile x x carpet lines the floor in the lobby, faded from plenty of traffic and the x x passage of time. An elevator door sits next to the carpeted and open x x stairwell, with another elevator door across from the first. Hallways x x stretch in two prime directions from the lobby, and the front desk has a x x wooden top scuffed and weathered, with a sign-in book and a polished and x x shiny bell. It probably hasn't seen much ringing. Keys hang from small x x straight posts under large block numbers, with cubbyholes under them for x x mail. There is, perhaps surprisingly, a modern cash register and a x x computer system at the desk. Aged red carpet leads from outside to the x x desk, through gold-trimmed double doors. x x x x Outside, it's clear, warm, and breezy. x x x x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x Ian Heryld enters the hotel behind Sly and looks around, then walks towards the front desk and asks for a room for each of them. Proper identification is presented, and the rooms are payed for in several minutes. Thanking the night-shift employee, Ian takes a note of his key's room number and heads towards the elevator doors. "That job is going to be great, but... I feel like that's a problem for tomorrow, I'm pretty tired." Grinning a bit as he walks alongside Ian, examining his own key, Sly says, "Well, at least you don't have to go so far. And I don't have to sleep in the alleyway tonight!" Ian Heryld smiles beside him and nods. "Definitely. Also, we've got left over pizza," he says, holding up the half-full box. "Alright, sleep well, Sly. Enjoy the bed. I'm going to be working on some kind of ward before I call it quits, if you want I can go and set up the same over at your's when I've got something working?" He makes that last sentence a question, opening the door to his room and leaving it open for the response. Smiling some, Sky nods and says, "Sure. I'd like that. Wards are good... they keep out the bad things." He gives a little shiver, as if he knows what bad things are, and then he says with a yawn, "G'night, Ian." And he slips into his room. Ian Heryld looks up and down the hallway one last time before closing his own door, setting the pizza box on the nearest table, and starting some kind of drawing, with the pen in his right pocket, under the bed. A couple of hours go by before he gets into that bed and falls asleep.